


Forever More

by ghidrah



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Cheesy, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Romance, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 16:36:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15174875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghidrah/pseuds/ghidrah
Summary: Even in the Wastleland, a place teeming with death and despair, Deacon and Fixer found love. Is he greedy for wanting something more?





	Forever More

5/1/2019 NOTE: Hello! I want to note what happens here isn't canon to my current Rina-canon my tailoring of the FO4 canon in conjunction with Rina-canon. Sorry that sentence may not have made any sense! 

xxx

Deacon had heard about this thing called marriage now and again, sometimes from Wastelanders revealing it was mutual decision between them and their loved one, sometimes from old books revering or criticizing the act; lately, however, most thoughts of wedding another appeared in his dreams, be it during the day or night. He wasn’t one to dream, let alone voluntarily, yet both wandering thoughts and untouchable sleep fantasies beckoned to him like waves flirting at his feet ashore: he felt amazed, entranced, _weightless_. Marriage was a thing of the past, he quietly insisted, an incredulous ideal from old times that the post-apocalyptic present couldn’t fathom happening within anyone’s lifetime, traditionally speaking. No one would take the time to gather friends, resources, legalities, or energy to prepare such an extravagant event; just having a romantic partner was a blessing alone. The decorated idea was possible in maybe Diamond City, but even then? There were far more important things to tend to, which is why these thoughts continued to surprise Deacon; they made him feel greedy. He both feared and swooned over the idea of agreeing to spend eternity with the other; he feared their very mortal lives, their impermanence graced with romance.

For the longest time, he was a realist testing the waters of skepticism’s pool for justifiable reasons. The Wasteland was a treacherous place with dangerous people retaining a frightening record of mistrust, naturally withdrawing his own desire to trust in others. Deacon did his own thing resulting in a solo, independent life riddled with helping others via the Railroad up until some years ago when he witnessed the opening of Vault 111.

The farther away he got from the memory, the more phantasmal it became. That day and every day after continuously deepened it into something akin to fiction from an old-world book. How could such a critical moment feel so surreal? It was the day Desdemonna ordered him to take intel around Concord and check up on an abandoned town north of it, a place coined Sanctuary by the Minutemen. It was a town often left alone by raiders and gunners for unknown reasons, perhaps because of its distance from the main city or out of respect to leave the only Mr. Handy resident there cleaning alone in peace.

Upon scouting the residential area, Deacon heard a grand noise coming from the hills just outside town. That noise had been a vault opening and out from it wandered a confused, bewildered woman armed with nothing but a Pip-Boy and gun.

At the time, it was just an ordinary afternoon with a crazy occurrence, but each furthering day romanticized the moment, emphasizing the hills and the trees and the way the light shined so brightly on that vault-bearing hill, tempting him time and time again to deem the one-sided meeting as “fate” or “meant to be.” What began as an interest in this new person transformed into a fascination whenever hearing tales of Vault 111’s lone survivor. Deacon deemed this person trustworthy, dependable, and worthy of his and the Railroad’s time, but outside his jokes to others about being heads over heels for someone who had all their teeth and knowledge from the old-world, did he seriously think he’d fall in love? No, no one could predict that. The craziest thing was finding love in return.

Something in him found a terrible need to express how thankful he was, to express the mutual tenderness shared with his heart. He wanted this incredibly symbolic marriage but feared it all the same: he was terrified of giving his entirety to love and possibly losing it all in any type of Wasteland incident. Death suddenly felt real and, sometimes, far too near. He began fearing dying for both him and her. Every gunshot felt louder, every battle cry became more frightening; even noises in the night jolted him wide awake. His senses were becoming far too overwhelming daily.

Deacon looked at the one tugging his heart strings. Fixer sat on a bed in their Bunker Hill room wiping blood off some of their belongings.

“You know, that’s just going to get dirty again,” he pointed out, well-aware this was a habit of hers.

“It’s good to have clean things, as clean as things can get nowadays at least.” She held up a camera, free of any sort of gunk. “There. Doesn’t it feel better to look at this now?”

“Yeah, but not as good as you.” He grinned, and she shook her head returning the gesture.

“That time of morning again for the tacky lines before we set out?”

“You know it.” Deacon left his chair to plop on the bed next to Fixer. “I unfortunately can’t scream my love for you off Boston rooftops, so you have to deal with it in these contained, romantic spaces.”

“As romantic as a room with piles of dead rats can get, I suppose.”

“We should really tell Tony about those…”

“I’ll take them out. Could sell them or cook ‘em. Up to you.”

“Mmm, week-old dead rats. My favorite. Not.” Deacon watched Fixer pack some now-clean junk into a duffel bag, then zipped it shut. “Ready to head out?”

“Yep. Returning to Sanctuary today, right?” She stretched upon standing up, releasing a pleased sigh after hearing various bones crack.

“Whatever’s on the schedule, boss.” He lightly pushed her back, enough for her to stumble over and glare at him right after.

“Hey now!”

“The all-knowing Fixer has lost yet again to Deacon’s push. Conqueror of Deathclaws, but loser to hands.”

Rolling her eyes, she leisurely walked up to Deacon, placing her hands on either side of his face leaving only inches between their face and chests. “Only to your hands.”

He growled, “Wowie, usually we leave the shenanigans for nighttime.”

As he leaned in for a kiss and moved his arm to push her closer, she just barely escaped his motions and took a few hops backward to reach the door. Mouth agape, he stared at her blankly as she teased, “Now, who’s the actual loser?”

“Jesus,” he snickered and gathered his things before joining her at the door. “For real though? Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He held her left hand as they exchanged a gentle kiss followed by a common ritual of gazing at each other before departing whatever haven they bunked in that night. It was the only time they had alone as traveling called for paying attention to everything but each other. Wedding rings flashed in Deacon’s mind while exchanging warm eye contact with Fixer, his thumb alternating between circling her ring finger and her pinky. It was just a thought, just a ring, he bickered to himself, it shouldn’t mean anything to him. How badly he wanted to slip affection over that finger, and how quickly anxiety flooded his head. He didn’t want to lose her. He didn’t want to lose their warmth, their life together. Death felt so present in his loving, racing heart.

“You okay, Deac?” Fixer bent forward slightly in attempt to sneak a glance under his glasses.

“Just dandy,” he replied before giving her another quick peck. “You know how it is. Don’t exactly like leaving these smelly, decaying rooms. Love them to death.”

“Uh-huh, right,” she flatly droned with evident disbelief. She opened the door for them to exit, sunlight flooding the two’s faces. “Take your time.” She gave him a small smile before leaving, one he had fallen for so many years ago.

“Believe me,” he muttered, “I want to.”

About ten minutes out of Bunker Hill, Fixer groaned about forgetting to clean the room of dead rats to save Tony trouble. It wasn’t their fault, or his, but it would’ve been a nice thing to do. Man, did he love her.

Gunfire sounded in the distance snapping him out of his brief romantic haven.

It was going to be a long day.

Xxx

Fixer and Deacon came across some trouble preventing them from reaching Sanctuary within a day’s travel. A few groups of raiders, a gang of gunners, and a whole lot of running and stimpack usage all flashed by in an adrenaline-ridden hour. It was one hell of a fiasco, leaving Fixer thankful they made it out alive with the usual remorse over lives lost due to desperate measures and enemies’ unwillingness to cooperate. She felt some degree of guilt putting her and Deacon’s life over others, wondering when her desire to protect them intensified the magnification of both life and death. One of them dying used to mean some amount of pain, but now it felt like losing so much more – it felt like losing the future.

After the firefight, they tended to leftover wounds at a nearby settlement. The settlers happily provided them with medicine and, thankfully, stimpacks in a room set aside just for Fixer’s spontaneous visits. The settlers swore to an extra careful watch tonight assuring the two they’d be safe.  

Night came and passed, bringing ominous and familiar flashes of the vault, the bomb dropping, seeing the Wasteland for the first time…

Fixer awoke in a cold sweat. It had been years since she left Vault 111, but the passing of time didn’t exempt her from nightmares reminiscent of that first, horrific month unveiling the Wasteland. All her nightmares consisted of reliving the past, specifically that dreadful first month. She wiped her forehead with a trembling hand, sighing with relief once registering she was in fact away from the dreamscape, though it still beckoned for her presence.

Around her were shoddy cabin walls, torn curtains, a burnt-out lantern, and Deacon sleeping soundly next to her. Fixer clawed her arm to fight off the sleepy limbo begging for her return to dreamland. Wake up more, she demanded to herself. No way in hell did she want to go back to such a realistic feeling memory-scape.

The warming color of the curtains signaled the sun was just about rising, meaning she’d gotten plenty of sleep since last night. Didn’t feel like it, she thought. The coldness of the room became more apparent with her clearing thoughts waking her further, but she still sensed memories lurking and yearning for acknowledgement. No longer drowsy, she knew just a small greeting towards her dreams would make them go away in the long run. Hopefully, at least.

She had dreamed when she took her ring off.

The decision came about a month after leaving the vault and establishing Sanctuary with the Minutemen. One day she’d been talking with Codsworth about what the vault was like, revealing how her husband’s body remained loosely inside his open cryogenic chamber. At the time of escaping, she was too frantic to think of what to do and solely wanted to figure out what was going on. In desperation she’d taken his ring while finding her way out of the vault. Then what? Then she’d left, found Codsworth, met the Minutemen, and learned more about the world. Everything happened so fast but leaving her husband alone in the vault had undoubtedly haunted her. Once she had gotten what felt to be only slightly more adjusted to the Wasteland, she decided with Codsworth it was time.

With his help, they retrieved her late-husband’s body and buried him on a hill behind Sanctuary where the two had gotten engaged so many years ago, hundreds of years ago. At the intimate funeral service for only her and Codsworth, she tearfully clenched onto her husband’s ring and regretfully removed hers from her finger, a decision that took a month. She kept telling herself it would help her move on, no matter how hard it may have seemed. Shortly after, Fixer wore the rings hidden on a chain around her neck until discovering more of the Commonwealth, eventually moving them into a safe at her room in Sanctuary. After some months, the rings didn’t hurt as much to look at anymore as they were becoming just a memory, just a pair of objects. The numbness bothered her more than their former meaning, terrified to potentially experience that transition again.

Fixer walked outside the small shack greeted by the sun up for some amount of time. She lost track of how long she was laying down for.

“Hey, you okay?” Deacon stumbled out of the shack a few minutes after her.

“Yeah, fine now.”

“That thing happen again?”

A pause. “Yeah.”

He scratched the back of his head before wrapping an arm around her, briefly squeezing tight. “Glad you’re awake now.”

“Same,” she sighed. “You think you’re over something, but then it comes back out of nowhere and feels so real again.”

“Memories are finnicky like that, huh.”

“As long as I don’t dwell on it, I’ll be okay.”

“It’s alright to think a little about it, but don’t drown like I used to. Wouldn’t want to lose Rina to the memory sharks.”

Her heart warmed upon hearing her name. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He kissed her cheek. “Everyone’s always happy with Deacon around.”

“Especially me.”

He beamed before ruffling her hair. “Alright, lets get back to business and ditch this nightmare-inducing shack. Only a walk away from Sanctuary, right?”

“Right.”

They grabbed their things and said their thanks and goodbyes to the settlers.

Their trek under the sun began. They kicked a rock around, managing to keep it going with them for about five minutes until Deacon punted it into a nearby puddle.

“Score!”

“There goes our entertainment,” Fixer joked as they both bid farewell to their rock companion.

“Now you have me and, hopefully, just me. If there were other people around, we’d probably be trying to save our hides.”

“You never know who you’ll bump into out here.”

Deacon looked around where they walked. It was barren, let alone a few trees, abandoned cars, and various junk about the ground. The day had been opposite of yesterday’s busy with action. “Your leg feeling better?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Fixer glanced down. It had gotten wounded in battle when they ran out of stimpacks, thankfully saved when arriving at the settlement. “Definitely still tired though. Last night didn’t help.”

“Totes. Don’t worry, once we get to Sanctuary, you’ll get all the rest you deserve.”

“Rest? Deacon, there are so many things to do at Sanctuary. I can think of twenty off the top of my head right now.”

“At least nap you nonstop powerhouse,” he laughed. “You need it.”

“I’ll sleep for six hours instead, how about that?”

“Make it eight.”

“Seven?”

He put a finger to his mouth in thought, then quickly whispered in her ear, “As long as I’m there, you got a deal.”

“Wow.” She pushed him away, snickering at the thought. “Not here, doofus.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Judging by the Red Rocket sign up ahead though, I think I was in the clear.”

“You can see that far?” Fixer squinted in attempt to spy the sign.

“Actually no, but that particular graffitied rock hasn’t moved in years, so we’re about a ten-minute walk from there.” He pointed to a rock with a red X on it. “And trust me, there’s no buried treasured around here. I’ve checked.”

“You had me thinking we were nearly there. Now I have to suffer ten more minutes alone with you?” She grinned. “How awful.”

“If you’re lucky, you’ll be stuck with me for the rest of your Wasteland life,” Deacon teased. His heart put every genuine ounce in those words, simultaneously fighting a bubbling lava of anxiety erupt in him. He wanted to say it, he wanted to live in that aspirational truth in face of every fear he had. He wanted her.  

“Wouldn’t that be something? You never know.” Fixer’s heart pounded, eager, and fearful, at the notion of forever with this companion she came to love so dearly. Promising the rest of their days together sounded loving. Upon these sorts of thoughts, she usually got flashes of finding her late-husband in the vault, but strangely, now? Despite her nightmare earlier? Those former worries felt diluted. They felt old, blurry, and out of touch.

Fixer paused in her footsteps. There was definite fear within her, but it didn’t seem as restraining anymore. She thought of her rings, thought of their temporality, and thought of how forever seemed so tangible between her and Deacon. In a land so wrought with expiration and decay, they somehow found trust and love. She didn’t want fear to restrain its growth anymore. Nothing would put the brakes on their relationship.

She wanted it all.

“Hey Deacon?”

“That’s my name, what’s up?”

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Again with that?” He pinched and tugged on her cheek. “Same. I love me too.”

Sanctuary in sight, she shoved him into a bush before dashing across the bridge and taunting, “Payback!”

The roads were less lonely with him. She always wanted it to stay this way.

If she ran fast enough, she’d beat him to her house. Though her memories continued to taunt her, she felt ready to bring a new meaning into the world; only fear was stopping her and against fear, she’d march forward.

It was about time she cracked open that safe.

Xxx

Deacon wasn’t sure why Fixer locked both doors to her house. After a few exchanges, she stopped replying, leaving Deacon outside with the rest of Sanctuary. It was a wonderfully sized area, though he couldn’t help but feel he was missing out on the best part which was wherever Fixer was. On a few occasions, she referred to her house as “theirs” despite the little amount of downtime they got at Sanctuary due to their travels. A slip of the tongue, she’d defend herself, and a slip of truth, he’d tease back, which lead him to his current predicament. He was slightly confused at her hiding away. She was fine, probably, but usually she told him what she was doing.

Relax Deacon, he soothed himself, she’s probably just arranging some junk or looking for a new change of pants, though that didn’t quite warrant the need to lock both doors. Their relationship didn’t call for many secrets anymore, so sitting outside under the sun left him bewildered. She just needs some alone time, he thought. He hoped she was doing okay.

First it was five minutes, then ten, then an hour passed. It wasn’t helping Preston and practically everyone else at Sanctuary asked what she was up to. He was running out of ways to say “I don’t know” without feeling slightly embarrassed. What was she doing?

The sun eventually went down and those not on night duty soon retired into their respective rooms. Small buzzes of night guards filled the night, wisps of freshly cooked vegetables painting the air. Even at night, Sanctuary brimmed with life.

Deacon left the workshop across the way to knock on her door, only for it to open before he could land his fist on it. Fixer jumped not expecting to be looking up at her companion.

“Jesus Deacon, you scared me.”

“Boo! I’m spooky!” He sarcastically waved his hands. “Seriously though, you ditched me for the whole day without saying a word. Now that’s spooky. What were you up to in here?”

“Cleaning the place up,” she smoothly replied. “It was a bit messy.”

“I’d hate to break it to you Fixer, but that might be its fate during our lifetime.” He walked past her to scan the living room. “To clean it, you said?”

“Yes, clean.”

“This doesn’t… look cleaner.”

“I cleaned the bedroom.” She shut and locked the main door, once again blocking out the outside world. “And the curtains. They were dusty. I mean they still are, but, yeah, no, I didn’t dust them.”

“Hm,” he enunciated out loud. He walked in front of her and bent slightly forward, hand in thought on his chin, face directly in front of hers as she kicked the door shut. “Someone is being… secretive.”

“So were you earlier, you nitwit.”

“Whoa there, the 2070s called and they want their lingo back.”

“I’m 200 years older than you. What do you expect?”

“I think we both know I’m the older and definitely more mature one.”

“One of those is true, probably.”

He snickered, took her hand, and raised his arm high to spin her around. “So, you said the bedroom is cleaner?”

“Not for what you’re thinking, you sicko.”

“Rina, I know you’ve thought ten times things worse than me.” Deacon held her around the waist and consistently kissed her as they made way through the hallway towards the back rooms.

“Pulling out real names, huh?” She ran her fingers through his hair. “How dare you, Deac.”

“And how dare you pull out my super-real name, ‘Deac’.”

“Uh huh,” she chuckled as they sluggishly entered her bedroom focused on not falling over finally getting a moment of relaxing intimacy.

Upon flicking the light switch, he noticed changes in the room. Different sheets, general decorative items in order, and the usually-locked safe by her desk was open. In curiosity, he ogled its mysterious state. “Speaking of secrets, what’s up with that open one?”

“First thing that piqued your mind, huh?”

“As interested as I am in the change of bed sheets, the safe is far more intriguing, what can I say? As an expert in intel, you tend to notice the most important things. So, spill the beans boss,” he switched his attention back on her, “what’s going down in the Room of Rina? Mysteriously locked in here for hours? Mysteriously unlocked safe that’s been locked for years? Mysteriously… clean?”

“Well, Deacon, we’ve known each other awhile, right?” She – regretfully – let go of her grasp around him and took a step back, though he instinctively held onto one of her hands. His was gentle, bigger than hers, and comforting with every crease and callous she felt; his touch was home.

“You’re spooking me now with that sentence. Everything okay?” He toned down his playful attitude. “This morning still bothering you?”

“No, well, not really, but that’s kind of related.” She thumbed the inside of his palm. “Deacon, I love you, and before I tell you anything, I want to make sure everything is totally okay between us.”

Was she concerned about his anxiety a couple days ago? For once, he couldn’t tell. Whatever she had planned was totally serious, but he had no idea what was about to happen. He squeezed her hand. “You know I’d tell you if something was up between us. That thing I was a little weird about a couple days ago? That was…” He paused, realizing he was once again feeling her ring finger and feeling a daunting shadow lurking. “Rina, I’m- I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Of losing you. I… I love our life. I love going out there, changing the world, helping people, discovering new things, telling stories, but what I don’t like?” His hand got clammier as his heart began racing. “I don’t like that we’re risking our lives everyday doing it. It didn’t used to be so bad, but over the years something changed. I don’t want to lose you – I don’t want to lose us. I don’t know when it got this way or when I got so greedy.”

“I get scared about that too.” She glanced down and nervously laughed. “I was scared when leaving the vault, scared when learning about the Wasteland for the first time, and yet through it all, nothing quite hit a vein like this until now.”

He grinned in attempt to lighten the air. “We’re really taking risks. When did death start feeling so real?”

“When we started feeling so alive with each other.”

“Poetic.”  

“I wouldn’t change it for the world.” She brought his hand to her lips, feeling its crevasses mesh into her own as she pressed against it softly.

“Neither would I, but what I’d give just to lay with you surrounded by, I don’t know, plants or some shit.”

“I do love gardens.”

“Rina?” He started in a hushed voice. “There is one more half to that little fear I haven’t told you about.”

“Do tell, Deac.”

Not knowing where to start, he uttered a few sounds before finding his voice. “As much as I love what we do, I do sometimes want to lay down with you, and not with constantly hearing gunfire and Super Mutants bickering all night. It would be less risky, less dicey. Lately out there, I’ve caught myself thinking ‘what if I die?’ or ‘what if you die?’ It’s like I’m constantly caught in this tug-of-war between feeling like I’m on the brink of death and feeling like I’m in this sort of ‘forever’ with you, but,” he nervously laughed, “it’s not going to be forever. I know that from experience, you do too. And I’m greedy. I’ve been so greedy lately. I want something _more_ to make it feel like forever.”

“What do you mean?”

“I, I want to marry you, Rina.”

There was a brief silence. Fixer’s eyes widened as she gazed at his reddening face, both feeling their hands pulsating in one another. “Deacon, I-”

“I know that’s kind of, old, cheesy, and wacky, but, oh boy, honesty. Am I right?”

Fixer took her hand back from him and removed something from one of her pockets, hiding it in her closed fists. “You know that safe?”

“What about it?”

“I only kept one thing in there. Two, technically, but I consider them a pair. They’re one item.” She opened her palm to reveal two gleaming gold rings indistinguishable from one another. “I wanted to take them out today.”

“Took you hours upon hours to open that safe, huh? How did you ever win my heart over with lockpicking?” It took him a second after to register she was, indeed, holding a pair of golden rings. He could feel his heart stop, his hands shake.

She smiled softly. “It’s funny you said what you did, though. I guess great minds think alike.”

His heart started again by skipping some beats. “Rina, do you…?”

Voice slightly shaking, she took a deep breath before speaking. “You know it was my partner’s ring, you know how hard it was for me to remove it and to remove mine a month after. I took these to keep the past with me, but they became a relic, a reminder, and eventually they just became _things_ I wore around my neck. At that point they went into the safe for years. Deacon, I…” she looked up at him with those eyes, those soft, earnest eyes he yearned to see every day. “These meant something entirely different so long ago. I have memories, but when I look at these rings? They vaguely remind me of the past, but ultimately are _just_ rings. They’re just things. And now, I’m ready to give them new meaning. I want to.”

Deacon could only look at her, couldn’t think at all.

She continued, “I want to give these new meaning. I want them to mean the now, I want them to mean the now and future with you. Deacon, will you let this ring have meaning to you, let it onto your finger, and have our love always there?”

“Rina, are you su –” but he stopped speaking once truly taking in the eyes he’d fallen for over the past years. The ones that were too far to see when stumbling out Vault 111, the ones cautious upon first meeting him, the ones that profusely teared up when frustrated about all the turmoil in the world, the ones that softened upon his quiet voice, the very ones expressive of every feasible sensation around him and only him. She graced him with showing him all her emotions with her eyes as did he once feeling an inescapable bond of trust solidify between them.

He was in love.

They were in love.

Deacon placed a hand on his chest, closing his eyes for a brief second before exchanging Fixer’s loving gaze with his own after taking his sunglasses off and putting them in his pocket. No longer was he afraid of questioning his own worth around her or exposing his eyes revealing how long he’d look at her, how he’d nervously glance away at times, how his eyes hinted what could possibly be passing through his head. He was okay with her knowing it all; he was grateful for her knowing all of him.

“Rina,” he started, “since I first saw you, I didn’t realize how much more than an asset you’d be. I thought you would be just another helper, but holy hell am I glad I was wrong. Starting as someone who’d volunteer for missions occasionally to being someone I was able to tag along with, and from there turning into someone I was able to open up with and call my friend? It was great, but I felt needy when I realized I wanted something more than that. For the first time, I felt selfish for starting to feel new things other than hoping I could ever forget my past. But with you, through friendship, I learned what _new_ felt like. And that first night we kissed?” He took her hands and clasped them together, the rings resting in her hands with his delicately outside hers. “I love you Rina. I look forward to every morning we wake up next to each other and hate every night I have to sleep through time that could be spent being conscious with you. I want to keep making memories with you. I’ll take this ring and give meaning to both of them with you.”

He unfolded her hands and hovered his left hand a few inches away from hers. With slight tears in her eyes – both of their eyes – she took the timeless ring and slid it onto Deacon’s left ring finger, fitting perfectly once surpassing a stubborn knuckle. The gold snugly fit at the base of his finger, the two admiring its placement.

“Pretty sure it’s stuck there.” Deacon sputtered. He kissed Fixer’s forehead before smiling and kissed her lips. “Thank you.”

“Something about giving thanks doesn’t feel quite right,” Fixer chuckled before caressing one of his cheeks with a thumb. “This is for both of us.”

“You’re right. Let me put on yours.” He took the other ring from her hand and delicately slipped it over her ring finger. “Feel okay?”

“Feels amazing.”

“But you know what feels _more_ amazing?” He smugly grinned.

“You doofus, don’t ruin the moment.” She shook her head and went back to caressing his cheek. “God, I love you.”

“So, we’re ‘married’ now?”

“Things are a little bit different nowadays, so we’re whatever we want to be.”

“Then we’re married.”

“As people used to say at ceremonies, ‘I do’,” she said.

And he replied, “I do. I want to be with you.”

She beamed up at him. “We’ll keep making our own meaning.”

“I’m ready to grow old with you, Rina.”

“I am too.”

They kissed and loved into the night with matching rings gleaming the peeking moonlight. Upon a final kiss they needed not for once to exchange tender words ensuring the other how much meaning they brought into the other’s life. Deacon spooned Fixer as they fell into a peaceful slumber, his left hand over hers, fingers touching. The rings were together once again and were there to stay, forever more.

Some days on the road, one of them would ask, “Shall we go home?”

And the other would reply, “With you? I am home.”

Xxx

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I couldn't get the thought out of my head about equipping the wedding ring on companions (aka Deacon), so here we are! If you enjoyed it please leave kudos/comment, I super appreciate it. Long live everyone's favorite egg.


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